


"When was the last time you've seen your mother?"

by Malikishtarismywaifu



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Family Angst, Family Issues, Mr.ishtar is a hUUGGE dick, Other, bakura is kind of a dick, defiling corpse, ishizu ishtar - Freeform, ishtar family, ishtar siblings, isis ishtar - Freeform, malik ishtar - Freeform, not much violence tbh but just in case, odion ishtar - Freeform, rishid ishtar - Freeform, this is a oneshot typpa thing and its 4:00 am so its probs shitty woop, tips in the comments are apprecaited, trauma lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malikishtarismywaifu/pseuds/Malikishtarismywaifu
Summary: "I've only seen my mother once, actually."Bakura halted for a moment, his defensive stance loosening. He was expecting a physical response, not a verbal one, but perhaps he could tease Malik about it, get a few laughs. "Oh? Didnt she die before your birth?""Yes, " Malik chuckled, his tone mocking and low, returning the same wicked smile from earlier, "It's quite a funny story, really."
Relationships: Ishizu Ishtar & Marik Ishtar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	"When was the last time you've seen your mother?"

**Author's Note:**

> Tips in the comments are appreciated!!
> 
> T.W!!!  
> MENTION OF CORPSE

"What about you?" 

The question caught Malik off gaurd. Why has he being asked about this so suddenly? He had made it apparent, over and over again, that being asked about his past would only result in a stab wound to the stomach or yet another dislocated shoulder. Maybe Bakura got off on pain- both his and Malik's emotional grief that seemed to wash over his face each time he was questioned. 

"When was the last time you've seen your mother? Your father? Whichever one hurts you worse to remember." A wicked smile. Malik flexed his arms, getting into position to hurt the poor host's body once more, when he changed his mind. Maybe one story would zip Bakura's mouth shut.

"I've only seen my mother once, actually." 

Bakura halted for a moment, his defensive stance loosening. He was expecting a physical response, not a verbal one, but perhaps he could tease Malik about it, get a few laughs. "Oh? Didnt she die before your birth?"

"Yes, " Malik chuckled, his tone mocking and low, returning the same wicked smile from earlier, "It's quite a funny story, really."

.

"FATHER- STOP! THAT IS **ENOUGH!"**

That was enough for me to stop in my tracks, to turn around rather than enter my study room.

I'd never heard Ishizu raise even a decibel at father, of course this had piqued my interest. I wondered if he perhaps had broken her favourite vase, or drenched her notebook. That had certainly angered her in the past.

I begun walking towards the direction of the burial chamber, where the voices seemed to be loudest, the sound of my feet meeting the stone floor echoing throughout the hallway, alerting sister of my soon arrival. I picked up on hushed whispers between them, and there came out Rishid, his face friendly but body shaking. He was hiding something, and my curiosity was piqued. 

"Master Malik, you're not allowed within the chamber, go back to your study room." he used that dreadful title once more- and for a moment I wondered if he'd ever once call me brother- beginning to usher me backwards while the shouts and arguing never ceased to lower in pitch. Yells of _"This is madness!"_ and _"Let her rest where she belongs!" were all I could make out._

"I want to see what's happening, why would sister be so aggressive?" My eyes were round and full of interest rather than the dread I'd feel for the rest of the night. Rishid held me within his arms, I struggled limply, but resigned into his hold. His demanour seemed to shift once his face was hidden, tears he wasnt aware of seeping into the cloth of my shirt. He didnt need to hide his knitted eyebrows, his quivering lips, now that I've looked away. 

Father had done something to upset both of them? Perhaps it was an important journal- a book about the outside world we all yearned to see. As my imagination flew wild, father spoke, his voice gleeful and surprisingly cheerful, while sister cried with pain, but she sounded distant. 

"Isnt your mother simply gorgeous, Malik?" 

I was delighted! Maybe father had found a lost portrait of her, or a painting, a statue like those that adorn the tomb. Any trace of my mother was deeply cherished within my heart.

I weakly pushed Rishid away, escaped his hold so I could see whatever it was father had in his hands. I could hear Rishid's panicked cries behind me, but weak as I may be, I was quick. Why didnt he want me to see? Was he jealous? That I get to see our mother but he can not? No matter, I'll ask father to show him as well- 

Father smiled at me, wide and genuine, for the first time since I'd been born. In his arms was mother. Our dead mother. 

Isis looked at me defeatdly, refusing to show even an ounce of fear, one of us had to be strong for the others- for _me._ She wouldnt argue any longer, there was no purpose now that I'd seen. 

Something had gripped my throat with such tightness, I could not speak nor scream. I stood there, dazed, almost lifeless like her. Father could not have possibly gone to such heights of insanity- theres no way he would defile mother's corpse like this. How else will she find paradise? How will Ma'at weigh her heart when he held it between his fingers, desperately trying to form a living heartbeat? 

The first stage of this grief I felt was denial. No way was that mother, I thought. I must've been mistaken- this was certainly a cruel trick my family had played, this must be one of the servant's bodies.

But that unmistakable dark blue hair rested atop her head, braided neatly, just as it'd been in the photographs I've seen, and her precious golden earrings, the one she'd made herself. This was mother. This was _mother's dead body._

"You go on and on about wishing to meet her," father begun approaching me, and I cowered away in fear. What he'd done was taboo. Taking her bloody organs out the jar and stuffing them back inside her, bringing her body out of the coffin, _opening the sacred coffin in the first place_ \- "Why are you so afraid, my dear son? Now you get to see my beloved wife in all her glory. Oh how she wished to watch you grow." 

Rather than reply, I sprinted through the halls, my fear of the dark paling greatly in comparison to what I'd seen before my eyes. Father didnt follow, whether Rishid stopped him or he realized I was terrified, I couldn't remember, I couldnt think of anything but mother. Even in the afterlife, my last hope to see her, I'd be unable to. I'd never see her again. I'd never see her again.

Brother and sister heard my cries that night, they were loud and shameless, full of grief, of _want_. I wanted to see her again- this time with her cheeks plum and pink, her eyes shining like mine, and he took the chance away from me. He'd stolen her from me.

And that was added to the pile, my other self growing stronger by the second. He fed on all my anger, my despair, any other emotion I couldnt control nor bare, from that day, and it tipped the scales. The following day, I would steal something from father as well.


End file.
